The Girl in the Last Room
by operaghost96
Summary: Alec found V in a cellar during a demon hunt. But there are things about her that neither of them know... like her name, and things that she's hiding from him, like how Jonathan survived and why he wants her. Meanwhile, Jonathan, miraculously brought back to life, begins his hunt for V, to fulfill her myserious 'purpose' post CoG. Contains an OC. Please Read and Review! :D
1. New Discovery

**A/N: this story will probably lead to Alec/OC. I'm sorry, but I'm not a huge Malec fan. This will also be partial AU, because I made Magnus leave because of trouble with the Clave (being accused of practicing black magic), I made Alec (eventually) straight, and this will be without COFA. It will be if the series ended after COG. I do not own any characters mentioned, except for the nameless (for now) girl. I don't own the Mortal Instruments. If I did, I would be doing some HIGHLY illegal things to either Jace or Alec.**

Alec POV

Everyone was hanging out in the library, as usual, when Mom walked in. "Alec, Isabelle, there is a Du'sien demon nearby. It should be a few minutes out of town." Izzy, Jace, and I all got up. "Not you, Jace. You still need time to recover after your battle with Sebastian and Valentine."

Of course, Jace being Jace, he started to complain. "Come on, Maryse! I'm fully recovered. It's been two weeks! I'm fine. See?" he started flexing and giving his arrogant smile.

She wouldn't budge. "No. I'm not going to let you put yourself in danger when you just got out of the infirmary last week. And it's only one Du'sien. Besides, consider this time off to finally be alone with Clary since now you know you're not related."

We put on our gear, I got my bow and arrows, a Sensor, and a few seraph blades, and my sister and I were ready to go.

…..

We eventually tracked it down to an abandoned one-story building that was the epitome of 'spooky', and this was coming from a Shadowhunter. Izzy took the upstairs, and I took the basement. Suddenly, I heard something. It sounded like a strange mix between hyperventilation and crying. The voice sounded female. What was going on? It came from the end of a corridor with about five other rooms, and the smell was awful, like decaying flesh mixed with blood, vomit, mold, and dirt. What was going on down here? I opened the door.

Upon first glance, the room seemed empty, except for a girl's voice crying and saying something in Latin. Why did I have to fall asleep during ancient languages class? I caught the word, "Valentine" and listening closer, I made out "no more tests". I took out my witchlight and saw the girl. She was Izzy's age and Jace's height, I imagined, with pitch black hair that reached past her waist and sunken dark gray eyes. She was wearing black sweatpants and a gray long-sleeved t-shirt and was barefoot. She might have been pretty if she was not so painfully thin.

I ran over to her before she would hurt herself or me. I put my hands on her shoulders and shushed her. "I'm not Valentine. I won't hurt you."

After I said I wasn't Valentine, her eyes widened as she struggled to get away from me. "You're Jonathan, then." It wasn't a question. How did she know about Jonathan? She yelled, "I won't let you take me!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Izzy come in, and judging by the fact that her necklace wasn't glowing anymore, she killed the demon. She stayed silent. "No, I'm not Jonathan, either. Valentine and Jonathan are dead. I'm Alec Lightwood." I pointed to my sister. "This is my younger sister Isabelle." She relaxed a little, before she started coughing, then realized in horror that she was coughing up blood. She fainted from the blood loss.

Izzy finally spoke up. "Roll up her sleeves and check for Marks, Alec. She might be one of us." I did just that. Her hands had the open eye rune on both of them. When I rolled her sleeves up further, her skin was covered with the scars of faded runes and the insides of her elbows were covered with little marks, as if poked with a syringe.

"She's definitely one of us. I just want to know who she is. Let's take her back to the Institute


	2. Awakening

**A/N: I want to thank Readsalot4 for adding this story to his/her story alerts and to Kate for reviewing, and to MikiMoke who read my other OC story, only that one is in the Blue Exorcist world. To Kate: careful doesn't even begin to describe how I'm playing this story. If I see a bad chapter after it's published, chances are, I'm taking it down and rewriting it. I accept anonymous reviews, so even if you don't have an account, PLEASE review. Again, I don't own MI. I only own the OC. **

**Oh, and something random happened while I was at band practice. You'll probably skip this but, hey. We were playing battle hymn of the republic without drums. **_**Saxophone player: does anyone hear the drum part in their head while playing this? **_**Me: Yeah, and other things. *insane person smile*. **_**Everyone else: O.o *scoots away from me***_

Alec stayed by the girl's side, eating when Izzy brought him food and sleeping for only a few hours. Maryse was at the investigation scene, and Robert was in Idris. His _parabatai_ placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Alec," he looked into Jace's tawny eyes, dark with concern. "Get some sleep. It's been five days, and you're barely sleeping. I'll watch her for now."

"I want to be there when she wakes up."

"Alec, I'll let you know. There's also an official Clave report about that place where she was found. You're the only one of age so you have to get it."

Alec hesitated, but nodded and left.

Jace heard the door open. It was Clary. "Is this the girl Alec and Izzy rescued?" he nodded. "That poor girl."

He looked at her left arm, which at the moment had an IV stuck in it. It had more Marks than any adolescent Shadowhunter had a right to have. If anyone even dared to do something like that to his Clary… he held her tight and kissed her. "You know I love you more than anything, don't you?"

"I love you, too, Jace." She kissed him back before her alarm rang. She groaned and rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I have to go. Curfew." He nodded and kissed her lightly before she left.

He heard a groan coming from the bed as he sat back down. She opened her eyes and blinked. Her eyes were almost black on the outside of the iris before tapering to a lighter gray. She sat up and gasped, a sharp, shaky intake of breath. "Who are you? Where am I?" she demanded in Latin.

"My name is Jace Lightwood. You're in the New York Institute. Can you speak English?"

She nodded. "Why am I here?" she asked, this time in English.

"My adopted siblings, Izzy and Alec Lightwood, rescued you while they were on a demon hunt a few days ago. Why were you down there?"

"Valentine Morgenstern kidnapped me and performed tests on me." She grimaced, probably remembering old wounds, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

He sighed. "Listen, I'll ask questions later, but you need time to recover." With that, he left.

XXXXX

Alec stared at the Clave report in horror. There were four other girls, all dead. They bore the same pock marks on the inside of their elbows, and bore many Marks. They were all emaciated, and none of them bore identification. Izzy entered the room. "Alec?"

"What kind of monster would do this?" he half-whispered.

She looked at the pictures. "By the Angel," she gasped.

"First the Uprising, then the Silent Brothers, then the Mortal War, now this? I hope that bastard rots in Hell. He didn't deserve a proper funeral. That was too good for him. May the Angel curse him." By now, Alec could barely contain his anger.

Izzy rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Alec. You don't mean that. True, Valentine was horrible. But so soon after Magnus left-"

He turned to face her. "What?" he snapped. "I should take a break? Stop hunting demons?" he scoffed derisively. "Don't worry about me."

"Just consider it. You aren't in the mental condition to be hunting demons. You should help the girl with her recovery when she wakes up until I'm sure you're over him."

The door slammed open to show Jace. "She's awake!"

"She's awake? She'll need food." Alec rushed for the kitchen. Izzy and Jace heard him distantly call, "Is pasta okay?"

Jace yelled back, "I'm pretty sure that _Izzy's cooking _is okay for someone that skinny, but we don't want to cause her any more trauma than she's been through."

Izzy turned on him dangerously. "And _what,_ exactly, is wrong with my cooking."

"Nothing," he said quickly. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Isabelle.

The Institute doors opened to show a very physically and mentally exhausted Maryse. "Is Alec still with her?" she asked, hiding how tired she really was.

Jace, who was absently playing with his _stele_, nodded. "She just woke up, so he's getting her food."

"She's awake? Good. The Clave will want to interrogate her. Since we think that thoses girls were test subjects for Valentine, we want to know what he did to them. And since this girl is the only survivor -we checked for anyone else- she is the only person to ask."

"What?" Jace now stood up straight. "She's barely alive, she's scared, and is suffering from serious malnutrition. Not to mention the fact that the amount of Marks she has means that she should be on the brink of insanity by now and spent the last five days unconsious."

"Then will you allow me, at least, to see her?" she asked sarcastically.

Jace scowled in response. "You just don't know how bad of shape she's in."

**Please review! Anonomys reviews accepted!**


	3. The First Steps Towards Recovery

**A/N I'm sorry if this chapter's not good. But do you know what could make me improve? REVIEWS! Please? I'm sorry there isn't much fluff in this chapter, but there will be more.**

**Disclaimer: Yes, I am secretly Cassandra Clare, writing an ORIGINAL CHARACTER into a FAN FICTION that disregards one of the most popular couples in the series. Get real.**

Maryse walked to the Infirmary to see Alec giving her a plate of pasta. The girl took it gratefully.

"So, I never caught your name," he said, trying to start a conversation.

She hesitated and looked down. "Probably because I don't remember it. Valentine just called me 'Number Five'. I'm not sure even how long I was down there. I never saw the sun to tell."

Maryse entered. "Alec, get some sleep," she commanded.

He hesitated. "But-"

She focused her icy blue eyes on him. "Go."

He left, intimidated by his mother.

"Is he your son?" she asked.

She nodded. "And one who is going through a tough time at that."

The girl placed her now-empty plate on the bedside table. "I know. He told me."

Maryse noticed the unusual color, or rather pattern, of her irises. She knew those eyes, but she didn't remember from where. "What do you remember about your life before Valentine took you?" Any information would help her be reunited with her family.

She bowed her head. "Not much. I only remember my life shortly before I was taken. I was eleven. I just received my first Marks for combat and was sent demon hunting on my own for the first time. The Sensors only suggested a Ravener. Instead, I was taken by two Raum to Valentine. That's all I remember. What does the Clave want with me?"

"We want to know why Valentine did what he did to you and the other girls."

The girl looked down, a tear rolling down her cheek and fear and sadness filling her expression. "The reasons he did what he did. You'd better take a seat. This story isn't pretty."

Maryse sat down, and as the girl was about to start talking, Jace opened the door. "I thought I told you not to interrogate her yet."

The girl shook her head. "It's alright; I can talk right now, but I think everyone should hear this."

Maryse nodded. "I understand. I should go see to Alec. He barely left your side, you know." She aimed a pointed look at the girl before leaving.

"So is it true? About you not remembering you name, I mean." She nodded. "I don't even technically have a name, either. Before the Uprising, Valentine experimented on unborn children. When my mother was eight months pregnant with me, she committed suicide because my father died. Valentine didn't want his hard work on me to go to waste, so he cut me from her dead body and raised me as his own son."

"If there was one good thing to say about the bastard, he was devoted to his work."

"You know, if Valentine just called you 'Number 5', how about we call you V? It sounds a whole hell of a lot more personal."

The smallest touch of a smile graced her features before she nodded. "Okay."

Alec slammed the door open in a rush. "Are you okay? Are you comfortable?" V nodded to both questions. "Can I get you anything?"

"Could you get me a scalpel or something?" she asked, glancing at her legs quickly.

"Why?"

She sat up the whole way, peeled off the covers, and rolled up her sweatpants. On each of her legs, there was a binding rune, one used to hold serious Nephilim prisoners at the Gard. "This rune keeps me from getting up and leaving. It would be removed to perform a stamina test before he replaced it." Jace belatedly noticed the burn marks and scars under and around the rune.

"Of course. We keep some acid around to get rid of temporary Marks that were drawn wrong. We can get rid of some of those other Marks and give you an _iratze_ and a remembrance rune." He left the room, a relieved smile on his face.

Once he was out of earshot, she said, "Once I make a full recovery, I am going to hunt down this Magnus Bane guy and kill him for hurting Alec. He's so nice and friendly, but he's _broken_. How do you live knowing that your friend is so hurt? How do you know that he isn't hurting himself?"

He sighed before leaving his position at the wall opposite of her and walked towards her. "I live like that because he's more than my friend. He's my _parabatai_. If he were hurting himself, I'd know."

The door, once again, slammed open. Izzy began talking immediately. "Alec, I'm going to Taki's with Simon—" she paused and smiled dryly. "Well, look who's awake. If it isn't the girl in the last room, finally awake. You've become something of a celebrity. How could you not notice not being fed for two weeks? You'd have to be some kind of idiot not to try to escape."

V raised an eyebrow. Jace idly thought about how Clary would try to do that time and time again and failed, and that she instantly envied someone who could do that. "First, what do you mean by 'the girl in the last room'? Second, Valentine would starve me to see how long my body could go without food. Third, Valentine put binding runes on me so I couldn't escape."

"Oh. Well, I guess I should get you some clothes. And tell Luke and Jocelyn you're awake, too. Bye."

She sent a huge grin their way before walking out, her stilettos clomping against the ground.

XXXXX

Alec found the acid and looked at it none too fondly. He remembered just after they returned from the battle in Alicante and Magnus left.

_Alec ran to the weapons room, tears streaming down his face. He told him that he loved him, and when he left, Magnus didn't take him. He groped through the shelf until he found it. Alec uncorked the bottle of acid, and poured it on the scar left by the Binding rune. He then poured it on other Marks in anger. Love, Life, Honesty, he didn't need any of them. He lifted the bottle to his shoulder…_

_Then he saw the Mark that he almost destroyed. It was the _parabatai _rune, the one that bound him to Jace. A bond closer than brothers. To think that he very nearly threw something so special and rare away in a fit of depression. He collapsed to the ground, sobbing, when Isabelle found him, she said nothing, only held him._

Alec wiped a tear from his eye as he carried the bottle of acid. He was going to give this to someone who truly needed it.

XXXXX

Izzy walked up to Garroway Books. She'd been to it a few times, but it still didn't look like the place where Valentine's right-hand man, or New York City's Alpha wolf, for that matter, would choose to live. She knocked on the door and Clary answered with a huge smile on her face. However, once she saw that it was only Isabelle, her face fell a little.

"Hey, Izzy, it Jace with you? Or is he still waiting for the girl to wake up?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you guys about. Is Simon here? I have to cancel our date."

Clary made a face. "No. he's at band practice. Apparently, they're getting a singer."

Izzy involuntarily made a face. She liked Simon, she really did, but his band _sucked_. Hard. "Great. What name do they have now?"

"Millennium Lint." They gagged at the same time. "Well, anyways, come in."

When they entered, they saw Jocelyn and Luke talking. Jocelyn looked really upset. "Hey," Izzy said, "The girl's awake. She will probably make a full recovery, but right now, it's too soon to tell."

The three breathed a sigh of relief. Although they didn't know her, as people who were close to him or family at one point, they all felt a bit of responsibility to make sure she recovered, even though they knew it wasn't their fault. "What's her name?" Jocelyn asked sa Luke tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Izzy looked down. "When I asked Alec, he said she doesn't remember it. She doesn't even know what year it is, or how old she is. Apparently, Valentine screwed her up pretty bad. There were four other girls, all dead of different causes. Alec got really upset over it."

"To lose your daughter like that… this is exactly why I left Valentine. He was absolutely obsessed with his experiments and knew no humanity when it came to them. I just thought that obsession would decrease over time. What did he _do _to her?"

"Well, she doesn't want to talk yet, not that I blame her, but when we found her, she said something about Jonathan.

Jocelyn paled. "No," she whispered. Izzy continued to tell them everything.

XXXXX

Alec returned to the Infirmary with a bottle of acid. He uncovered her legs and rolled up her pants to show the binding marks. He dripped some acid on her legs before moving to some of the Marks, taking care which ones he erased. Once he was finished with that, Jace took out his stele and put an _iratze_ on her shoulder blade. The girl barely flinched at the burn. After, he pulled up the back of her shirt to put a Remembrance rune on her back.

After a sharp intake of breath, she said, "I still don't remember."

**A/N: that's it for this chapter! PLEASE click on the shiny review button and tell me what you think!**


	4. An Empty, Quivering Shell

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and faves/story alerts! They really mean a lot to me and keep them coming! This chapter is a little darker and gives a little more background**

**Disclaimer: do not own. Never will. I just own V.**

"What do you mean it didn't work?" Jace demanded of V.

V kicked off her covers, turned, and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not saying it didn't work. I'm getting some images and memories I've lost back. I'm just saying I still don't remember my name. Valentine stole—" she broke off. "Wait, what year is it?"

"2012," Jace told her, surprised. Didn't she know what year it was?

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "That bastard took five years of my life away. She returned to her explanation. "Valentine stole five years of my life. It'll take time to get those memories back."

Isabelle came near her, before making a face and stepping back. "By the Angel, you smell. You are showering and getting new clothes." V glared weakly at her.

"Nice to know that she is still so sensitive," Jace said sarcastically as he watched his adoptive sister leave the room.

"Hey," she said, standing up. "Is there a shower or something here? It _has_ been five years since I've bathed. I guess Isabelle had a point."

He laughed a little. "Down the hall, third door to the left."

She nodded and left. Twenty minutes later, she returned, wearing ridiculously tight blue jeans and a flowy purple tank top. Izzy walked behind her, brushing her hair and trying to braid it.

"Oh, my God, you smell so much better now. Actually, you look like you could go into public now."

"I am going to cut my hair off," V grumbled.

"Oh, come on. It's so long and pretty and straight."

She ignored her and turned to Jace. "Is she always like this?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes. But I think that she's trying to forget the way you looked in the cell."

Izzy wore an indignant expression, saying, "Well excuse me for trying to clean her up. Oh, maybe I should have gotten a blue top to match your pretty eyes! Or maybe—"

She was cut off by the Institute doors opening. "Jace! Where are you? You're supposed to be training me, remember?" Clary walked into the Infirmary. When she saw V, she stopped. "Umm… Hi. I'm Clary Fray." She held out a hand.

She took it and smiled briefly, until she saw the Morgenstern ring on her neck. Her eyes widened as her smile faded and she stepped back. "Morgenstern," she said in shock as she threw up and coughed up some blood, before passing out.

XXXXX

Jonathan opened his eyes. "What… What happened?"

A large demon stepped out from the shadows. "You were dead, boy, until a life was restored in the name of good, so you were brought back in the name of evil. Enjoy your second chance at life, boy." The demon disappeared. Jonathan recognized this cave. It was where he and Angel Boy fought. He smiled. It was time to take what was his: what his father had prepared for him.

XXXXX

_A man with salt-white hair and cold black eyes paced in front of the five girls, ages ranging from eleven to thirteen. They were all remarkably beautiful and strong. The man began to speak. "You are all probably wondering who I am, what I am doing, why I am doing it, and why I took you, so let me clear things up for you. My name is Valentine Morgenstern." The girls began to look more terrified. This was the man who rained death upon Alicante and made the streets run red with blood. "I am going to inject you with five different mixtures of demon and angel blood. Most of you will not survive. I am doing this because I have a son with demon blood named Jonathan. The last one left alive who I deem strongest will become his bride and together, you will start a new, stronger breed of Nephilim. I chose you because you are the strongest, smartest, and most beautiful of the Nephilim your age in Alicante. Do you have any questions?" The youngest, an eleven year old girl with black hair and strange gray eyes, raised her hand. "Yes?"_

_She spit in his face, saying, "You're a self-righteous bastard who has no conscience. Rot in hell." The other girls looked at this strong-willed one in shock. _

_Valentine smiled firefly, chuckling to himself before bringing his left hand with a ring down hard on her cheek. "Number Five, this could have been easy and relatively painless for you. Now, I will test your limits to extremes and you will _never_ forget this ring or the family tied to it." He started walking away. _

_She straightened up. "That's not my name."_

_He turned around. "Excuse me?"_

_She looked at him in defiance. "I said, that's not my name. My name is—"_

_He cut her off. "I don't care what your name _was._ Your name is now Number Five, and it will be until the day you die."_

"_I hate you," she said, eerily calm. Her gray eyes were hardened in anger._

"_Let's see where that strong will of yours goes when I'm done with you. You'll be a broken, quivering shell of a Nephilim."_

XXXXX

Jace was lightly slapping V's cheek, trying to get her to wake up. She was doing so well until—"The ring," he whispered.

"What?" Clary asked as she looked up at him.

"The ring. It's the Morgenstern family ring. She probably recognized it when she saw it and that's why she flipped out. The Angel only knows what kind of shit Valentine put her through."

Suddenly, she was half-conscious, muttering in her half-passed out state, not knowing they were there. "Valentine, you're a self-righteous bastard. I hate you. Number Five isn't my name." her eyes snapped open. She stood up and walked towards the window, tears streaming down her face. "What happened to me?" she whispered to herself. "I was… so strong, and now, I'm just an empty, quivering shell of a Nephilim."

Jace, even though he knew her for less than half an hour, hated seeing V like this. She seemed so… damaged. Even though she was still close to the brink of death, she was angry at Magnus for hurting Alec. He wondered what kind of girl she was. "Come on, V," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you a room. Clary," he turned to the redheaded girl that was everything to him, "go home. We can do combat training tomorrow. We've had enough excitement for today."

She nodded and left the room. V, although injured, managed to glare at Clary hard enough to make _him_ shiver.

XXXXX

Alec and Izzy were left together in the Infirmary. "So. What do you think will happen to her?"

"When she's well enough?" He nodded. She sighed. "I don't know, Alec. She'll stay here until she gets her memory back, the Silent Brothers who are still alive will want to talk to her. But other than that? I don't know. Maybe she'll go back to Alicante with her family. Maybe she'll stay here. Maybe… Maybe she doesn't recover and ends up in an asylum or dies. Anything can happen to her."

**A/N: Please review! They make me happy!**


	5. Blood Always Tells

**A/N: Thank you everybody for the views/reviews/favorites/alerts! They really mean a lot to me and I edited a part of the last chapter so read the edit before reading this one, because I saw the beginnings of a Mary Sue, so I fixed it.**

**And of course, the Mortal Instruments series belongs to the wonderful Cassandra Clare.**

It's been a few days after V woke up, and she was making a quick recovery physically. She was getting more and more memories back; however, she still didn't remember her name or the name of her family.

Maryse had sent a message to the Silent Brothers the day V woke up, and had just gotten a message back that they would be ready for her in about a week. Maryse hadn't told V yet because despite the amazing physical recovery, she was still mentally fragile and would pale, shrink back, or walk away upon hearing anything related to Valentine. Maryse wondered if V would ever make a complete mental recovery.

XXXXX

V flung herself on her bed—she was moved out of the Infirmary three days ago when everybody was sure she recovered—almost completely spent. She finished her combat training before _it_ happened—of that much she was sure—but Jace was making her go through training again since he was of the persuasion that she had forgotten most of it, so she was training with Clary.

_Clary_. The spawn of the evil man that robbed V of five years of her life. Clary wasn't raised by him, and she didn't like him, but blood always tells. That was one thin V _did_ remember from her childhood—a man, who she assumed was her father, judging by the black hair and same gray eyes, telling her that meeting anyone related to the evil people who represented the Circle were just like their relatives and should be treated as such. The War was over, the Circle was dead, and so the only blood that told was that of the Morgensterns, and Clary was one of the family, the daughter of that man, and the ring that hung around her neck, the ring that still left a mark on her cheek, attested to that fact.

V saw herself as lucky, though—she didn't die down there, she was the last survivor and Jonathan was dead. She was now fed more than once every three months, and she had a bed and a warm place to sleep at night. Her life was better now.

She heard a knock on the door before Izzy strode in, black eyes shining with excitement. She preferred not to look at her eyes for too long, or she would start getting flashbacks of black eyes dancing in glee as he injected demon blood in her veins, as her own blood was replaced with fire and ice coursing through her, and as she tried to scream, no noise came out… _No,_ she told herself, _Valentine is dead. I will never have those 'tests' run on me again. _She looked at Izzy and saw what passed as clothing in her hands. There was far too much skin and shape revealed for her taste, but this was how people dressed outside of the Glass City. The black-eyed girl threw the outfit on her face.

"Put those on. I'm taking you out to get some clothes. I mean, honestly, you're a little taller than me, and you can't keep wearing my clothes forever."

V was confused. The only clothes she had _before_ were things that local tailors made. How could she get new clothes so soon?

"Well, anyways, I'm giving you five minutes to get changed, and then I'm coming in. and don't even _think_ about making a run for it. I'll be right outside your door."

She sighed in defeat as she shooed Izzy out and looked at today's 'outfit': a very tight pink shirt with a bird on it, advertising something called 'Hollister', along with an _incredibly_ short pair of denim pants, along with an odd pink pair of sandals. She put on said items and frowned at her hair. She had taken a dagger to her hair many times in the past five days, but somehow, Izzy was always there just in time to save her ebony tresses. She ran a brush trough it a few times and came out, where sure enough, Izzy was waiting for her.

She sighed. "Honestly, V. how can you be starved for five years and still be curvy?"

V didn't know herself, but she knew that Valentine did it to all of the girls to produce a pleasing figure for Jonathan. "I don't know. Just my luck, I guess." V wanted to keep the reasons for her imprisonment secret for as long as she could.

"Well, anyways, ready for shopping?"

"As I'll ever be."

In the end, every shirt and dress was purple, gray, or blue because of 'her pretty eyes'. They returned with stiletto boots, skinny jeans, jeans shorts, miniskirts, short dresses, tank tops, and pretty much everything under the sun. V was still abnormally pale, but it's been raining for the past week. V had to admit, even though Izzy was annoying at times, she was helpful in helping her adjust and had her best interest at heart.

Back at the Institute, Izzy was helping V put away her clothes, when she said, "Izzy, can I ask you something? What I'm about to ask you might bring back pad memories, but I have to know."

Reaching into the closet, she said "Go for it."

"What did Jonathan Christopher look like?"

She dropped the hanger that she was holding "Why do you need to know? I mean, you ask now, when Alec found you, you said something about him being Jonathan, and you asked me to swear to the Angel that he was dead a few days ago."

Valentine's voice, telling her that she may be the Eve of a new Nephilim rang in V's memory. "I-I'd rather not say."

Izzy sighed, sat on the bed, and motioned for V to sit with her. "He looked like his father—light blond hair, black eyes—don't think I don't notice that you never look me in the eye—features that would look delicate if his face wasn't so strongly molded. Oh, and by the time he died, no right hand." She smirked. "I cut it off with my electrum whip."

"Lucky. I wish I could have done that to him."

She nodded. "So, why do you hate Clary so much?"

"_He_ kidnaps me, holds me hostage for five years, starves me, tortures me, and puts binding runes on my legs, and you think I'm going to _like_ anybody of that family name? 'Blood always tells', that's what my father taught me as a child. You think I'm going to disregard one of the few pieces of my life I remember?" She coughed a little, and some blood showed on her hand. She closed it quickly, trying to ignore the constricting in her throat. She knew that in a few minutes, she'd lose consciousness, but she always made it to the bathroom in time to hide the evidence. She knew that soon, she would lose too much blood to function, only to wake up an hour later. It wasn't anything new to her, but she didn't know why she was unconscious so long when she was found.

However, she didn't close her hand fast enough. "Why did you just cough up blood? You've done that at least once a day since you've woken up."

"Just something Clary's daddy dearest did to me. I need some angel blood. Even if it's diluted, I need it. He gave me too much demon blood last time." She noticed that her voice was starting to waver, and that she had to get Izzy out and into the bathroom soon if she wanted her 'condition' to stay secret.

"Those pockmarks… the other four had them, but we didn't know from what. They didn't find any syringes."

"He kept them with him. Don't worry about the blood. I'll just be sick for a few days. It'd happen all the time." It actually did, but she'd be sick until her next 'treatment', when she got the correct amount of angel blood. What she figured was the day of the battle was the last 'treatment' she had.

"You can't afford to be sick. I'll get Jace and a syringe."

When she walked out, she practically started running to the bathroom when she felt the salty taste of blood in her mouth, now on the floor. She noticed that the white carpet was now red when darkness closed in on her.


	6. A Shoulder To Cry On

**A/N: Yeah, I know it's been forever, but I got lazy with my school stuff, so I finished in July, then I had vacation to Myrtle Beach, and after that, I pretty much forgot about updating. But thanks for hanging in there with me! **

Jace was in the library, reading one of the 'mangas' Clary gave him. It was all right. The main character had red hair, purple eyes, and a scar on his cheek. He kept forgetting the name, but it was violent, so it was okay by him.

The doors burst open as Izzy came in very nearly jogging. "Come on," she demanded, grabbing his wrist and half-pulling him out the door, book dropped to the ground. He didn't know what was so important, but there was an urgency in his adopted sister's eyes, and judging by how fast she was going, it was important.

He finally found his voice, and he pulled another one of his signature lines. "Honestly, Isabelle, I know you have needs, but I _am_ with Clary now. We can't just go into the nearest bedroom, and don't you have your little rat boy?"

She met his amber eyes with a glare that was enough to castrate Bill Clinton. "Shut up and follow me. V really needs your help right now." She didn't slow down. If anything, she sped up.

She burst into V's room, and gasped at what she saw. V was there, unconscious, in a small pool of blood, some still coming from her mouth. "Oh, my God."

"What the hell is going on? Why is she unconscious?"

"No time for that. Long story short, she was more of an experiment than you and Clary. He gave her mixtures of demon and angel blood." She walked up to V, feeling her neck for a pulse. "She needs angel blood, or she'll stay this sick."

Jace couldn't bear the idea of another person being Valentine's victim. He thought that he had it the worst from his father, being abused the way he was by him. Clenching his fists, he said, "Give me a syringe."

XXXXX

_V saw images flash before her eyes—a horrified look on a small boy's face as a black-haired figure—Alec?—brought a hammer down on the boy's head. She heard a girl gasped, and both she and the black-haired boy looked to see Isabelle, eyes threatening to spill over with tears._

_The flood of images continued, so fast she could barely make out the individual pictures before stopping briefly on the boy climbing the demon towers, slashing his wrist, and writing a rune in blood. The flood resumed—once or twice she saw Clary, Izzy, a vampire who somehow made his way into daylight, and even Valentine. It paused again on the boy washing his hair in a small creek. Black escaped from his hair, leaving it a pale blond. _No,_ she thought. _It can't be… him._ The images flowed quickly again, and she was lost in a fast-moving river showing pictures of a fight between Jonathan and Jace. _

_Jace stabbed Jonathan in the back, and everything went dark. The images stopped._

_Jonathan opened his eyes._

She felt something enter her veins. It was a warm, refreshing, and energizing feeling running through her. She felt as though she could run for miles without breaking a sweat. She loved the feeling of the angel blood running through her. But then she remembered what came after—the demon blood. She remembered how Valentine would make her suffer: pin her to the table and watch her scream and squirm in feeble attempts to run away or get help. She tensed up, trying to get free. She was in Valentine's clutches again, tortured for his own sick pleasure and twisted purposes. There was no Institute. There was no safe place. There was no Alec, no Izzy, no Jace. Not even Maryse. No one could save her. She had to get away.

XXXXX

Jace injected his blood into V's veins. She relaxed slightly, before tensing up and thrashing around, screaming obscenities in Latin and begging to be let go. With one arm, he held down her legs while the other pinned her arms. He turned his head to Izzy, who was looking at V with a horrified expression—not horrified _by_ her, but horrified _for _her. She was afraid for her, genuinely afraid. "Izzy, get your brother." She nodded, the terrified expression still on her face, before quickly leaving the room. He turned back to the girl, who was slowly escaping from his grasp. "V, it's me, Jace. Stay still."

She screamed sharply. "Go away, Valentine! I'll never be your son's little whore!"

Was she talking about Jonathan? What did she mean by 'little whore'? Jonathan was dead. Then it dawned on him: she thought she was back in that cellar. He pushed that to the back of his mind. He couldn't think about that now. "V, it's me, Jace. Nothing will hurt you. Just stay still. Please."

In response, she thrashed harder, trying to get away. Alec entered, right in front of Izzy. For some reason, Alec was the only one who could calm V down when she started freaking out.

"V, it's Alec. Calm down. Valentine is dead; you're safe now. Just relax." As an answer to his plea, she struck out at him. He simply remained kneeled at her side, and motioned for Jace to release her.

"Are you sure?" He asked, brows furrowed. He wasn't sure if his _parabatai_ should be near V when she was fully flipping out.

Alec nodded as Jace hung his head in surrender. He released the flailing girl as both Izzy and Jace left.

XXXXX

Alec saw V desperately trying to get free of something she was released from nearly two weeks ago. He saw her freak out before, but this was different. She thought she was still in Valentine's clutches. Since he saw that talking couldn't calm her down, he simply held her until the screams turned into sobs, and her eyes opened, now more gray than black. In the back of his mind, he realized that she had beautiful eyes. He simply held her into his shoulder and let her cry. "It's okay now. You're safe. You won't be hurt here. Not by me, not by anyone. Me, Jace, and Izzy will protect you. Now, what happened?"

She inhaled shakily. "I was unconscious—my body rejected the last 'treatment' Valentine gave me because it had too much demon blood—and I felt the angel blood but I always came after the angel blood—the demon blood. It's like every pain you'll ever experience at once, and he gave me that blood last. I felt like I was back in the cell. It was-It was awful, Alec." She buried her head in his shoulder again. Alec realized how she was like Izzy after Max died—terrified, broken, and scarred. He simply kept holding her, like he held Izzy, and how Izzy held him after Magnus left. He knew how important it was to have a shoulder to cry on.

XXXXX

Izzy and Jace were in the hall outside of V's room, waiting for her to calm down. Izzy got sick of the stressful atmosphere around them, and tried not to listen to V sobbing into Alec's shoulder, the way she had not even a month ago. She could tell that Jace was getting restless as well and decided to talk.

"If Simon met V, I would put money on him giving her a Guy Fawkes mask." It was true. When she told Simon about the amnesiac girl in the fifth room who Jace had named 'V', he promptly started laughing his ass off, and once he calmed down enough to speak, he told her how V resembled a character in a comic book and movie he liked called 'V for Vendetta'.

"Who the hell is Guy Fawkes?"

"I don't know. So how have things been going with you and Clary?" Izzy decided not to talk about the crying girl inside the room.

He smiled, the incisor he had chipped during a sparring session with her coming into view. "It's amazing. _She's_ amazing. You have no idea how much I love her."

Why, oh, why, did she have to bring up Clary? He'd probably go on about how much he loved her until she wanted to throw up. Fortunately, he stopped.

Unfortunately, it was their mother who stopped him.

**A/N: Please review, and again sorry for the late update.**

**I don't own Mortal Instruments.**


	7. Got You

**A/N: Well, it's a little over a week until my 16****th**** birthday, so I'm gonna update all my stories (even the one I hadn't touched in seven months) as my birthday presents to all you guys. **

**I only own V and Elena Starkweather.**

Izzy ran to hug her mother. "Mom! What are you doing here? I thought you were still looking into where we found V."

She embraced her daughter back briefly. "We closed the investigation. The Silent Brothers, the Iron Sisters, and every resource we had were called in. the warlocks were incompetent, the faeries spoke in riddles, Lucian only seemed to find dead ends, even with his entire pack called in, and the Vampires refused to cooperate. We found the causes of death, but Valentine was quite effective in erasing them from existence. We couldn't even find birth records in the two year gap that the victims were born in. so; we are putting the girls to proper rest. That is why I must speak with V."

Jace, who was leaning against the wall, spoke. "The bastard knew how to cover his trail. Did you really think you would find anything?"

She regarded her adopted son with a nod. "In fact, we did find something interesting: two large bowls filled with liquid: in one, the liquid was gold. In the other one, the liquid was such a dark red that it was almost black. We also found a room full of objects: a table with straps, scalpels, weights, stele's, books with forbidden runes, and razor blades. It appeared to be some sort of torture chamber"

Izzy remembered what V had told her. _He tortured me… He performed 'tests'… My body rejected the last 'treatment' he gave me. _"By the Angel," she said aloud, covering her mouth. Raziel only knew what he did to her.

Maryse nodded and headed inside.

XXXXX

V was now sitting on the edge of the bed, conversing with Alec. "So now Raveners are so pathetic that a mundie with a Sensor can take one down? God, I sure was out for a while. When I was eleven, my dad had a hard time killing one. They must be getting sloppy."

"So, what was he like? Your dad, I mean."

The door swung open to show Maryse, bags under her icy blue eyes and skin even paler than usual. "Alec, I need to speak with V privately for a moment. There are some Clave reports that need to be reviewed." Alec nodded and left. He knew better than to challenge his mother. Closing the door behind him, she said, "We're closing the investigation."

V sat bolt upright. "What do you mean? Why? I can come in. I'll show you the secret room and—"

Maryse put up a hand to stop her. "this investigation is for full-fledged members of the Clave. We're closing it because we found all there was to find. We picked the place clean, and we did find the secret room. We took DNA sample for the Silent Brothers to match, but we couldn't find any matches. It's like the five of you never existed. Birth records for girls born in Idris in the age range that you were were destroyed. Another reason that I wanted to speak with you was that we wanted to put the girls to rest. No one knows who their families are, so the Clave wants you to perform the ceremony. Will you be able to do that?"

V closed her eyes and swallowed. Thinking of the other four girls was hard on her. She remembered how they would call her, the youngest, 'brave' or 'strong' for hiding her sickness and standing up to Valentine. _If only they could see me now…_ she thought. "When is the ceremony?"

"Tomorrow at dawn."

"I'll be able to do that."

Just then, a door cracked open as a woman asked for Maryse. She looked at V for a moment, her eyes wide with something akin to recognition. She had evenly tanned skin with honey blond hair and chocolate eyes. Seeing the woman sent a memory to V, too. She knew her, she just didn't know how.

Outside the door, V heard the two talking.

"Maryse has the girl made any headway on memory recovery?" the somehow familiar woman asked nervously.

"She says she has some images and memories, but nothing toward the effect of a name or family. I'm sorry, Elena. I know you haven't been the same since she died. It probably isn't her." Maryse said something else as their voices faded down the hall.

There was a knock on the door. "V? Its' Izzy. I want to see how you're doing." V got up and opened the door. Izzy walked in, specifically avoiding looking at the bloodstained carpet near the bathroom. "So what did my mom want to talk to you about?"

"A memorial service for the other four girls. Your mom wants me to perform the ceremony."

"Oh."

"Also did you see your mom walking out with a blond woman?"

"Yeah. Her name is Elena Starkweather. She's Hodge's—my old tutor's—younger sister. She's here from Idris for the investigation, and maybe for her brother's teaching position."

"So, tell me about what I missed in the past five years."

XXXXX

Jonathan Stood in the cellar that Valentine had held his 'gifts' for him as he cursed. Everything—from the bodies, to the journals, to the smallest drop of blood—was gone. Then he remembered: there was a fifth girl, who was treated much worse than the others. He opened the door showing a room as bare as the others, if not colder. However, while he felt nothing in the other rooms, he felt a slight tug in his gut standing in the room. This girl was alive, and she had won. _Got you,_ Jonathan thought.

XXXXX

V lay sleeping on her bed. After all the excitement, she felt as though she could sleep for a good while.

_She found herself in that awful cell, bare and cold as ever. But there was something different: Jonathan—don't ask her how she knew it was him, she just did—standing in the center of the room. His cold black eyes, so very like his father's, somehow found her own as he smiled darkly. "Got you," he said. "You can't run from me. I will find you, and when I do, you will fulfill your purpose," his eyes ran hungrily down her body, lingering at certain places, "many, many times."_

_He grabbed her and pulled her into a heated kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth._

**A/N: Well, yeah, that's a cliffhanger, and more than a little suggestive. But don't worry. And remember: reviews make excellent birthday presents! :D Until next time, this is O.G. signing out. **


	8. The Closest thing to a Friend I Ever Had

**A/N: I'm kinda on a roll with this story so I might be updating more often. And sorry about that cliffhanger. And the rapeyness. And thank you, sawana, if you are reading this. I'm glad that Malec fangirls can put aside their mindset and still like this story, and the review made my day. Oh, and the rating might go up on this if I keep going on like that. I don't own the Mortal Instruments, and I am not seeking to make a profit from this story.**

V woke up with a gasp, her eyes wide. She had never even seen Jonathan's face before and now he was intruding her dreams, kissing her, telling her exactly what he had wanted to do with her. She knew that there was no way she would be able to fall back asleep, not with _his_ face staring at her every time she closed her eyes.

Standing up, she decided to visit Izzy's room. She needed white clothes for the ceremony, anyway, and it was something to do.

XXXXX

Izzy heard a quiet rapping on the door, almost inaudible. It couldn't be Jace, his were loud and impatient, and that was assuming he knocked at all. It wasn't Alec, his were fast. Maryse rarely ever knocked at all. "Um, Izzy, it's V. Can I come in?" her voice was shaky, as if something had seriously terrified her.

She opened the door. "Yeah. Come on in." She looked at the other girl's face. "Oh, God, V, you look awful." It was true. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were at the moment black, no hint of the gray that usually colored them. She was pasty, almost gray, and trembling. In short, she looked as bad, if not worse, than she had looked in the cell.

"I couldn't really sleep, and I was wondering, do you have any extra white clothes? I remembered that you didn't buy me any yesterday, and as far as I know, white is still the color of mourning."

Izzy mentally slapped herself. She should have gotten V some while they were speaking earlier. She knew that V was expected to perform the ceremony, and not wearing white was considered dishonor towards the deceased, and implying that they did not care when they died. She walked to the closet, where sure enough, there was a second white outfit. The first simply appeared to be a white long-sleeved shirt with white sweatpants. _I wore those to Max's funeral,_ she remembered. The second was a white long-sleeved dress that fell to the ankles, the sleeves flowing. _I wore that when we first met Clary_. Normally, she would take the dress for herself, but V was performing the ceremony, and there was no way she would let V perform a funeral while dressed in sweatpants. Taking out the dress, she gave it to V. "This should do. It's had its days of demon hunting, but no permanent stains."

V took it. "It's… beautiful. Thank you." Comparing it to her skin, she could barely tell which was paler. She was still trembling; her eyes still a terrified black, and her skin still ashen.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

V stopped breathing for a few seconds, rubbing her wrists, and shuddering. "Nightmares. Now, I should probably start on writing the eulogies. Thank you again for the dress."

XXXXX

V sat, trying to think. She knew the girls. They were the closest things to sisters she ever had. The closest things to friends…

She set down the pen.

XXXXX

It was almost dawn, and Alec and Jace were both ready to go. Jace was waiting for Clary to arrive while Alec waited for Izzy and V. Maryse was at the funeral site, preparing the bodies.

"No, Izzy, I honestly do not need any more mascara." He heard a retort coming from her. "IZZY! I do not need any blush!"

"Nonsense. You're paler than my dress." He then heard an exasperated sigh of defeat and a couple minutes later, the girls walked down the staircase. Izzy wore the same clothes she had worn to Max's funeral, only her face wasn't stained with running mascara. V wore the dress that Izzy had been wearing when they met Clary, and his sister hadn't been exaggerating. He wasn't sure which was whiter. Her eyes, which had been a lovely silver yesterday, were now obsidian, and her hair was curled.

Jace gave a low whistle. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

Alec had to admit, the dress was rather form-fitting, and since she miraculously kept her curves and chest over captivity, it accentuated her incredibly thin waist.

Clary walked through the Institute doors, thankfully wearing white. "Are we ready to go?"

XXXXX

When they arrived at the funeral site, a meadow outside of the city, many Shadowhunters were there. Every person who worked in the investigation was attending. Alec saw Elena Starkweather there, with her five-year-old son, already tearing up. Her husband was an important member of the council, so he couldn't make it.

The four bodies, as was custom, had white shrouds with red runes and the words 'Ave Atque Vale' written on them, with a torch at one end of the first to the left. V stood at the podium, waiting for the sun to rise so she could start the ceremony.

As the first rays of sunlight touched down across the meadow, the people quieted as V began to speak.

"As you all know, eleven days ago, I was found during a demon hunt by Alexander and Isabelle Lightwood. They kept me in the Institute and nursed me back to health.

"What you don't know is why we were taken. This is a story for another time, however. What we are gathered here today is to mourn four of our Nephilim sisters who were brutally tortured and murdered by Valentine Morgenstern. He kidnapped us, five of us in all, the strongest Nephilim girls born and raised in the Glass City. He said in the end, only one would live, and I was lucky enough to be that one. These four girls were like sisters to me, every time I heard one breathe her last breath, I said the farewell to each of them. And every time, Valentine punished me."

She moved to the girl in the first room. Dark brown hair with amber eyes, he remembered.

"You were the third of us to die, and you were also the oldest. You always spoke of your family, and how much you loved them and missed them, and I realized how wonderful of a person you were. I remember how the day before you died, you said that I was 'like a sister' to you. You never knew how much those words meant to me, and now, you never will." She took the torch and lit the shroud. "As I said to you before, 'Ave Atque Vale'. You will always be remembered."

She walked on to the second girl. Blond hair with blue eyes.

"You were the first to die. In a way, I envy you. I wish my own heart could give out that early, and spare myself the years of torture, the 'treatments', the beatings… Although I didn't get to know you as well, since you died in the first month, what you called me the first day in the cells, 'strong', you called me for not giving in, gave me the strength to move on, to survive." She lit the shroud. "Ave Atque Vale and may your friends keep you in their memories."

She moved on to the third. Black hair with brown eyes.

"You were the second to leave us, and the second oldest besides. I remember how you boasted that your family was one of the few who bowed to one religion. Looking back, I honestly don't remember what that religion was. I know you had called me 'reckless' for standing up to Valentine, 'idiotic' for fighting the urges to give up. But although you didn't exactly like me, I hope that the God you believe in will welcome you into heaven." She lit the shroud. "Ave Atque Vale, and may God watch over you."

She walked to the fourth shroud, and paused slightly. He remembered that this girl had tan skin with dark brown hair and eyes, a classic Italian beauty.

Her eyes watered slightly. "You were with me until near the end. I remembered how during that first day, after I was beaten, on the ground, bloody, for insulting Valentine, you helped me up. I remember what you said, too. 'You're either incredibly brave or have a death wish.' We'd start talking through the cell wall; we'd tell each other our names, where we came from, about our families…

"We'd talk about what we would do once we got out when the Clave found and rescued us, although we both knew that wasn't going to happen. We just wanted something to think about while we were slowly wasting away. We wanted to think that we would live, and that we would see our families again. Although, right now, I don't think I would be able to recognize my parents, and they certainly wouldn't recognize me.

"You know, after learning about each other, I felt that we were connected somehow. Then I realized something, right after you died. You were… the closest thing to a friend I ever had." Tears were streaming down her face as she knelt by the shroud and lit it. "Ave Atque Vale, my friend. You will always be in my heart."

XXXXX

Alec walked over to V who was standing, as though she didn't have a place. None of the other Shadowhunters wanted to speak with her, and Izzy was talking with Simon.

"Hey," he said softly, walking nearer to her. "How are you?"

She looked at him, mascara running down her face. "I just buried my friend. She was the first friend I ever had, and I buried her."

"I know what it's like, losing someone you love. How do you think I felt after losing Max? You just have to remember them, the way that they were at their happiest. And you move on, and let your friends now be there for you."

She looked at him again, this time something else—happiness, maybe?—in her eyes. "Do you mean that?"

He nodded. "Every word."

She smiled and embraced him, crying into his chest. "Thank you."

**A/N: Well that's it for this time! Reviews= 3!**


	9. The Choice is Yours

**A/N: Well, I hope you all enjoyed your long weekend! Here's a birthday gift from me to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. And hint hint: Magnus makes a cameo here! Hope you all enjoy, from my split personalities to yours! Also, things will get more graphic as we go on, so the rating is now going up.**

**I don't own the Mortal Instruments series.**

Maryse called Alec over, so V let go, although she didn't want to. When she was with Alec, in his arms, she felt safe, as if not even Jonathan could touch her.

As Alec walked away, she heard a voice behind her. "Such a tragedy, isn't it? A waste of numbers in already thin ranks." She turned around and looked at the man: very tall, with evenly tanned skin and slicked back black hair. He wore sunglasses, a white t-shirt, and skinny jeans.

"I suppose you're right," she said, wondering who this man was and how he was able to sneak up on her.

"well, I feel bad for you, so I'm going to clue you in—your real name isn't V, it's—well, I shouldn't clue you in _that _much. If you want to find out more, just go to Starkweather Manor in Alicante." The man looked her up and down. "Rough night? Dream of a… certain white-haired boy?" He grinned, showing pointed teeth. He took off his sunglasses to reveal gold-green eyes with slit pupils. "Lovely to meet you, dear. My name is—"

"Magnus?!" The sentence was cut off by Alec, his face a picture of shock.

He grinned wider. "Why Alec, darling, how wonderful it is to see—" he was once more cut off, now by a right hook.

"You _bastard,_" Alec hissed.

XXXXX

Alec hoped he would never see Magnus' face again. True, at first he would try tracking runes, tracking spells by amateur warlocks, anything at all to find him. Even with Izzy comforting him, he still wanted to find him.

When V came along, he was so busy helping her, and talking to her, he was too busy to bother thinking about Magnus. Once Alec got to know V, he realized that he didn't need Magnus to be happy. V had lost everything—her memory, her family, even her _identity_—and she was still happy with only him, Izzy and Jace. Or at least as close to happy as she could be, under the circumstances.

And now, here Magnus was, as though everything was back to normal. Like he wasn't in the Most Wanted list, like he didn't drop him like a plateful of Izzy's cooking. He hated him for it.

Magnus held his jaw. "What was that for?"

He scowled deeper. "What do you think?"

"Now Alec—"

Alec knew that tone. _You know I didn't have a choice,_ he'd say._ You know I will always love you._ "Don't give me that shit," he spat. "You just wanted to high-tail your ass out of Idris before you got what you deserved."

V looked distinctly awkward. "I'm going to go meet Izzy's boyfriend," she said before sneaking away quickly.

"I just wanted to help V," Magnus said.

"Since when do you give two shits about helping anybody but yourself? Oh, wait—you want to solve the mystery that is V, turn your findings in to the Clave, and hope they lessen your sentence. Am I right?"

Magnus shrugged. "Well—"

"AM I?"

He sighed. "Yes, you are. But I'm here to help her put together the pieces. Her family—they helped me out of a couple jams."

"So you know who she is? Why don't you just tell her?! Not knowing who she is—it's tearing her up inside."

"People have to figure things out for themselves." He put on his shades. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I told the girl what she needs to know. Mission accomplished. Alec, dear, I don't believe that we'll see each other for a while." He walked away, miraculously blending in with the crowd, leaving him standing there, angry and confused, as he had nearly a month ago.

XXXXX

Izzy had said a lot about Simon, but V wasn't expecting… this. "It's daylight," she said in confusion. He nodded. "You're a vampire."

"And?"

"How are you not dust?" V was fairly sure that of all the things that changed over the past five years, that the inability for vampires to go out in daylight wasn't one of them.

"Well, very long and painful story short, I'm a Daylighter."

Clary came up, hugging Simon from behind.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I really should go. I want to find this Elena Starkweather person."

As she turned to leave Izzy placed a hand on her shoulder. She cringed involuntarily. It seemed that everywhere somebody touched her, it seemed to hurt her, because no one could touch her without touching a scar that was still healing. "Will you at least talk with Clary before assuming she's like her father?"

"Her father stole my life. I don't even know who I am anymore," she said, at first glaring, but now with tears threatening to spill over.

"But why do you hate Clary? That was her father, not her," Simon said.

"'Blood always tells', as my father told me, or at least I think it was him. I'm not sure. I only get vague images and memories," she said, trying to see past the memories that had leaked into her from Jonathan and into her own.

Izzy and Simon took that opportunity to sneak off, probably to make out.

"I'm not like Valentine. If anyone is, it's Sebastian," Clary said, trying to reach out to her.

V turned on her. "_Jonathan_. His name is _Jonathan Christopher_. Sebastian Verlac was just an innocent victim that had his name and face stolen from him. Never mention _his_ name again, if you know what's good for you." She started to walk away. "And just because you're not a total monster like him, doesn't mean that you're not like him whatsoever."

She walked around, looking for Elena Starkweather. She would at least know _something _about her past, and right now, any information was vital. She bumped into someone with red hair, and for a split second, she thought Clary had followed her before realizing that the woman's hair was darker and longer.

"Those were truly touching speeches you gave up there. I didn't know that my ex-husband put you through so much," the short (at least to her six feet two inches) woman said. "I'm Jocelyn Fairchild. I'm sorry that _that_ had to happen to you."

"Well, I'm just thankful that he didn't capture younger girls. Our training allowed us to fight through some of the pain."

"Well, I _do _want to know why you were taken."

She bowed her head. "No, you don't. I know you're Valentine's ex-wife, but I really can't risk that information getting out to the Council. I've already spent five years in captivity; I don't need any more time in a cell."

"I'm not part of the Clave anymore. After the Uprising fifteen years ago, I came here, to New York, and severed my ties with the Downworld. If you want to talk, you can find me at Garroway books tomorrow. I swear to the Angel that I won't tell anyone."

She sighed in defeat. Well, now she knew why Clary was so stubborn. "Okay."

"V, it's time to go," Alec said.

XXXXX

Back at the Institute, V changed out of Izzy's dress and into a tank top and a pair of sweatpants that Alec had given her.

When she came to Izzy's room, she looked at the pictures on the dresser: of her and Simon, mostly, kissing, holding hands, hugging, and a couple of photos with Simon playing something that looked like a four-stringed guitar. For a moment, she wished she could have that with Alec. _No. Even if he felt attraction to women, why would he take me? I'm weak; breakable. I have nothing to my name. In fact, I don't even have that. Who would take someone so fragile?_

A voice inside her spoke. _Well, there is Jonathan, because whether you like it or not, whether you're ready for him or not, he is coming for you._

_But I don't want pure lust. I want something… more. _Of course, she didn't know what that 'more' was. She never had the chance to have a first love, a sibling, or even a friend. She couldn't afford to, now. What if one day she woke to the lash tearing across her skin, or the injections? What if… what if she was dead and this was Heaven? This was far better than anything she ever had.

"You know, I knew Simon before he was a Daylighter, or even a vampire." Izzy said, now dressed in similar clothes. She looked at the area of the back that wasn't covered by the tank top. "V, what's with your back?"

"He'd beat me when I talked back. I liked to talk back, to show him that I wasn't afraid of what he could do. After a while, I just wanted to die, so I hoped that one day, he'd go too far and let me bleed out, or fracture my spine. Anything to get out, to no longer go through Hell every day."

"Well, I'm going back to bed. I suggest you do the same."

She went back to her room, and though she knew she shouldn't, she fell asleep.

"_Well, how nice it is to see you again," Jonathan said, sitting by a young warlock. Soon, the warlock and the room disappeared, replaced by a candlelit master bedroom. "Wonderful, isn't it? If you come to me willingly, I will make this as good for you as possible. If not," he chuckled darkly as the bedroom turned into a warehouse as she was blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a floor. "Well, it will be… less than pleasant." The warehouse changed back to a bedroom. "Until we meet again, here is something to help you think about me." He pinned her to the wall and kissed her so roughly that it hurt and shoving his tongue into her mouth, exploring every inch as he brought his hands to roughly grope her breasts. He pulled away, just long enough to say, "The choice is yours," before attacking her again._

**And… that is why the rating is going up. It's going to get worse as the chapters progress, leading to (maybe) full-on rape, so yeah, that's why it's up. And my birthday's in the morning (September 6) so please review!**


	10. A Swamp of Memories

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, everyone. I got CoLS for my birthday from my parents so I had to read it. Yeah I know it's been out for a while, but my mom kept saying 'just wait for your birthday', so I had to wait for FOUR FREAKING MONTHS before I could get it. So anyway, enjoy the next chapter, and I only own V.**

V woke with a start, gasping for breath. She thought that it would take a lot to feel violated, with everything that she's been through, but she felt violated. She felt violated when Jonathan had kissed her the first time, and now it was even worse; for he had touched her in places reserved for her husband, should she choose to marry. But what was more than that was she felt a new presence in her mind… as though someone was there.

_You can't hide from me, _the presence said. _You can't hide in the Institute forever. _It was Jonathan's voice—deep and smooth, like his father's.

_Why are you doing this? _She asked. She understood his intentions with her, but not why he was going so far as to invade her mind and torment her at all hours.

_Didn't dear old Dad tell you? Wow, you really are stupid. You're gonna have my children, whether you like it or not. And why not? You're the same as me, after all._

_I am nothing like you. You killed innocent people. You killed a child!_

_I beg to differ, _Number Five_. Lilith's blood funs in your veins, too, hot and fast, you blood is poison, just like mine. And the boy got in the way._

_You're just like your father,_ she mentally spat.

_Oh, yes. 'Blood always tells'. That's your family's motto, isn't it? You judge Clarissa like that, and now me. But you should be no prouder of your own blood. You're cold and alien and superior, just like your father. No one's good enough for you. Not even your precious Alexander. _

_Don't talk about my father like that. He was a good man who loved his family. _

_Oh, really? Did he ever tell you he loved you? Your mother? He is ice cold and if we're judging blood here, yours is just as bad as mine._

She ignored him as she stood up and dressed in her training clothes.

The first time she had been in the training room was the day Jace had insisted on doing flips. It was torture for her. It wasn't that she wasn't flexible; she just couldn't move her back much without feeling the lash searing across her skin, the demon metal biting into her. Rather than moving freely, like Jace was trying to teach her and she already knew, she had to contort her limbs into positions that no mundane could possibly manage to compensate for her useless back, feeling that it might split open and bleed if she stretched her skin too far. Recently, he was teaching hand-to-hand combat, though she and Clary never fought. Mostly, they only fought dummies until V got over her 'ridiculous vendetta against Clary'.

But today, she wasn't training with hand-to-hand combat. She looked at the wall of weapons, scanning for one that seemed to smile at her. _There,_ she thought, her eyes falling upon what was quite possibly the largest weapon available. The halberd.

She lifted the battle-ax, taking in mind its weight. Not much for someone who was forced to lift two-hundred pound weight regularly but heavy for someone new in its training. She noticed that it was heavier than the ones she had used before—it was made primarily of _adamas, _coated in electrum. She didn't know how she knew it, but she just… _did._

Swinging it, she brought the axe part of the weapon down on the dummy's head. It split down the middle with a satisfying _thunk._ She drove the spike at the end into the dummy's gut, where fake blood poured from the wound as she remembered her father's lessons. _It is a large and heavy weapon, but brutally effective, _he'd say. _You'd be hard-pressed to find a demon who could walk away from an attack with this unscathed._

The face appeared in her memory—a young man, thirty at most, with inky hair, gray eyes, and pale skin. She had his coloring, as well as his jaw and eyes. She loved her father, and he loved her. Then the image changed. The father's frame of six feet shortened two inches, gray eyes became black, black hair became a snowy white, and his features changed—chiseled features became delicate, in a strongly molded face. _Valentine._ She swung the axe faster and harder.

"You took everything from me. You took my home, my family, my memories, my identity, my friends, my sanity—"

His smooth voice interrupted her. "All to usher in a new generation. We needed all the young girls we could get—" With one fast, hard chop with the axe part, he was cut off, his head lying on the floor. Valentine now appeared as the dummy.

"You got what you deserved," she said icily, with as much hatred as she could muster.

XXXXX

Jace couldn't sleep. How could he? He just saw Sebastian making out with V. Putting on his warm-up clothes and tucking the covers into the already impeccably made bed, he made his way to the weapons room, bumping into Maryse along the way. "Jace," she said.

He stopped. "Yeah, Maryse?" He never called her 'mom'. He never had a mother, so he never really used the word.

"Have you seen V?"

Jace noticed that she used her name. During the first couple of days, she would call her 'the girl' or simply 'her'. He noticed that, ever so slightly, she was starting to get used to V, to her presence, to all of her habits. Alec, Isabelle, and himself also were acquiring a soft spot for V, most likely because so soon after such an instrumental part of their lives was torn away so suddenly, someone comes in, and fills a part of the holes in their hearts, however small, left by Max. V couldn't replace him, they all knew that, but they also saw his curiosity, his enthusiasm, and his good heart in her. It was as though she was a new part of the family. Not a replacement, but someone new to share their lives with. "No, I was just going to the training room."

"Well, if you see her, tell her that the Inquisitor wants to speak with her."

Jace was surprised. They already had a new Inquisitor? The reason that they had chosen Aldertree so quickly was because they were in the middle of a war. With Valentine gone, there was no need to choose an Inquisitor so quickly. "There's a new Inquisitor? What's his name?"

"Michael Ravenscar. They usually wouldn't allow someone so young to be Inquisitor, but his father was Inquisitor before he was murdered in the Uprising. And being among the many who lost a daughter five years ago, he knows not to go too hard on people going through loss. He wishes to meet with V in private first, without the Mortal Sword."

The Mortal Sword. The sword that had killed him on the shores of Lake Lyn by his own father, but also the sword that had assisted in bringing him back. He heard himself say, "If I see her, I'll tell her," before continuing on to the training room.

The room wasn't empty, as he had hoped it was. Standing in the center of the room, in front of a dummy, swinging a halberd, was V. Her hair was still curly, but pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her red Marks of grieving were still blood red against her skin, and her skin was still white, almost gray. V's tall frame was impressive, she was his height, but her emaciated body should've made it look almost comical for her to be holding such a large weapon. Instead, she handled the weapon with ease. She paused for a second, and he thought she had seen him. Speaking to herself angrily, the axe was set back in motion, only now with a frightening speed, force, and precision he had only seen before in himself and Sebastian. The halberd was now a golden blur of destruction, finally cutting off the head in a single swing. He processed most of her moves, how she used all three ends of the halberd, each one procuring a brutal kill shot, and how surprisingly talented she was with that weapon. _Her weapon of choice,_ Jace realized. She spoke at it harshly before seeing him. Her eyes shone black, not like Valentine's or Isabelle's, but rather like Jonathan's, like black tunnels lacking any evidence of a soul or emotion. A side effect of the demon blood, he thought. She looked at him, and it was obvious that her adrenalin was still up.

It became obvious when the high wore off; the manic black eyes returned to their silver laced with black on the outside. But more obvious was the look on her face. The once angry and victorious expression became one of excruciating pain.

Jace walked to her, stele in hand. "What hurts?" he asked, prepared to draw an _iratze._

She let out a pained groan. "My back." As he moved the stele, she stopped him. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"Demon metal laced with demon poison. It won't do you any good. Don't worry; it'll wear off soon." She smiled, though her eyes were screaming. "I overextended my back, that's all."

Jace nodded, though he didn't buy it for a second. After he moved to the Institute, he would put on a brave face and would push everyone away. "Listen. The Inquisitor wants to talk to you, and he'll be in the library. Want some company on the way up?"

V was only putting up walls, he could tell, and even Alec was having a harder time tearing them down, unless she was really stressed. "I can go to the library myself. I'm traumatized, not crippled." With that, she took her hair out of the ponytail and walked away, leaving nothing behind aside from a mildly irritated Jace and a masticated dummy.

XXXXX

V's head was a lot clearer now that she was able to use a weapon, however briefly. Knocking on the library door, she heard a voice say, "Come in."

Stepping inside, prepared to meet the Inquisitor. She had a ruthless reputation and would come down on anybody who had anything to do with Valentine. Opening the door she came face-to-face with Robert Lightwood.

"Hello? Where's Inquisitor Herondale?" she asked. Isabelle said nothing about a new Inquisitor, although she had told her about the new Consul—the mother of a friend of hers, after the old Consul was revealed to be an acolyte of Valentine's and was killed by his pet raven, Munin.

"She was a casualty of the Mortal War. Didn't Isabelle tell you? I'm the new Inquisitor's assistant. He had other matters to attend to in Alicante. My name is Robert Lightwood. I'm Isabelle's father."

V noted that he didn't say 'Alexander and Isabelle's father'. "Nice to meet you. I'm V. It isn't really my name, but I forgot it in the cell."

He nodded "I see. Do you remember anything of your life before you were kidnapped?"

V shifted through her memories of blood and pain and black eyes in a dark cell. Entering her memories from before was like trudging through a swamp: she could barely get to them; the pain and loss were weighing her down. She saw kind gray eyes, heard violin and flute playing joyously, the smell of Idrisian flowers wafting towards her. _Home, _she thought. But as always, a wall appeared right before her, and she ran into it, blocking her off from uncovering anything.

She sighed in defeat, sitting down. "Nothing. A face here and a name there, maybe. Aside from my education and training, of course. I remember what I learned, but not those who had taught it to me."

"Of course. Do you remember your family?" he asked, folding his hands.

"My father. He looked like me. Made me who I am, or was, rather. Once in a while, I'll see his face, hear his voice. I don't remember my mother."

"Yes, well, you may go."

V stood up and walked out, her head feeling as though a carriage had run into her.

XXXXX

Robert looked at V. A beautiful girl, certainly, with silver eyes, white skin, and extremely long black hair. Unfortunately, no one of her featured were rare among Nephilim, and well over thirty Nephilim girls were slaughtered that year, Aline one of the few survivors from Alicante. And Robert knew well enough, that when Valentine wanted someone to disappear, they would never be found.

Over the past two weeks, Maryse has kept in contact with him, telling him of Alec's fierce protectiveness and sense of friendship towards the girl, and now he saw why—with them both so lost and broken, they needed each other in order to heal. Perhaps the Clave wasn't wrong to put Alec in charge of safeguarding the girl. He picked up the phone in the library. "Michael, we should talk about the girl."

**Please review and tell me what you think! I want to hear your theories!**


	11. Draw a Card

**A/N: Hello, wonderful people of the world! So there is Sizzy in here (I absolutely love them! So cute!) and more than a little one-sided Jonathan/Clary because even the demon boy needs some love. And before you go on like "Ew! They're brother and sister! Incest is so nasty!" I want to remind you that in canon, Jonathon really does want Clary and that demons want what they shouldn't have.**

**Okay, I am a sixteen-year-old girl, born and raised in Pennsylvania, where I avoid cities like the plague. I am **_**so**_** Cassandra Clare. Yeah, right. So, in other words: DO NOT OWN!**

After speaking with Robert Lightwood, V went to her room. Empty, blank, and white aside from the garish red spot on the floor, filling her nostrils with the all too familiar scent of blood, the scent which she was used to by now, that she had been forced to live with for five years as the others slowly went insane, talking to voices that weren't there, hallucinating. The process of dying by the mixture of demon and angel blood was one of the worst ways to go, she learned. First came the pain of that awful mixture inside you, fighting it with everything you had. Then came the voices, telling you that you were home again, safe and sound. After that was the two natures actively battling inside of you, tearing you apart. That was the hardest stage to listen to. Number Four went through that stage for weeks, keeping both natures at bay until she snapped. She heard her as she dug into her skull with her nails, trying to dig the forces, the voices, out, until she dug through the bone and hit the brain. Her screams were the worst. She remembered her dying words as though they were yesterday.

"_Number Five? I think it's all over for me."_

"_No, it's not. You'll pull through. You've been pulling through since you came here." At hearing her weak and shaky voice, her own voice was uneven._

"_I've only been putting off the inevitable. Look at it this way: you'll get out. Jonathan might not find you. He might not want you. You could see your parents again." Her voice was growing fainter through the wall._

"_I won't let you die on me!" she screamed._

"_Relax. I knew this was coming from the day I was taken. I knew I would never get out of here alive." Her voice was a whisper now. "My biggest regret… was that… I could never see the sun again." Silence filled the cellar. Her own breathing was shallow, and Number Four's… wasn't there anymore._

"_Ave atque vale," she said quietly as the tears silently fell down her face. She didn't try to hold back. Not this time. Valentine could see her weep for all she cared._

She shook her head, ridding herself of the memory, the stench of blood and Number Four's screams disappearing with it. Grabbing a sweater of Alec's that he gave her, ('the Angel knows I have enough,' he said) as well as one of the few pairs of sweatpants she owned, and walked into the shower.

Getting out, she scowled at her reflection: sunken pewter eyes with shadows under them that stood out like bruises, inky black hair that fell to mid-thigh and skin with an unheard-of pallor. Add in her height and her grotesquely thin body, and she barely passed for human. Dozens of Marks decorated her skin, reminding her of her imprisonment, the stele burning in runes that felt… _wrong_. She hated the way she looked. Izzy was a little shorter, and though she was pale, there was still color in her skin. Almost as though she was looking into the past, she saw a girl, with prominent gray eyes, black hair tied into a single braid that reached her waist, somewhat pale skin, and a proud expression. "Who are you?" the girl asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. She was asked that a thousand times, and the answer always remained the same.

"That's because you're content to hide from everything. You just want to cower in New York, instead of going home, where you know Father waits for you. You know he misses you still after five long years, but you're afraid he'll see the monster, the _freak_, that you've become. You're weak. A pathetic excuse for a Nephilim," the girl spat. The wall reappeared in front of her, and once more she ran into it head-first.

Izzy walked in, hair messy and still obviously tired. "Do you ever wear anything other than that sweater?" she asked, glaring at the offending article of clothing disapprovingly.

"It's comfortable," V shrugged, not wanting to say that wearing it made her feel… safer, somehow. "Do you know if Elena Starkweather is still here?"

She shook her head tiredly. "She left right after the ceremony. Her son was getting restless, and besides, her husband's on the Council, and I doubt she enjoyed being where her brother was assigned. Why?"

"I don't know. It's just that—it's almost like I _know _her somehow. I just get this vague feeling and then I run face-first into a brick wall." She paused. "Is there a reason you came in?"

"Well, I figured that since it's nice out, and you had a hard morning, that Simon and I would treat you with a day out."

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"It's fine, it's not like we had any plans. So, I'm gonna let you get dressed, okay?"

She mumbled a not very convincing affirmative, before shooing her out once again. Choosing a dark pair of skinny jeans and a gray _nice _sweater that Izzy had bought her, she put them on and ran a brush through her too-long hair.

Coming out of her room, now dressed in a short jeans skirt and leggings with boots and a tight red v-neck sweater, Izzy grabbed V's hand and pulled her through the door.

"Come on, V, Simon's waiting!"

"But we already _went_ shopping," she said, confused.

"I hate to admit it, but there's more to see here than stores," Izzy joked.

"Can I at least bring Alec?" she asked. She didn't want to intrude on Izzy and Simon. Izzy had called it 'being a third wheel'.

She shook her head. "With just the three of us we'll be able to get a cab. Now come on," she said, half-pulling her through the Institute, before finally stopping at a gate where Simon waited, unable to walk on the hallowed ground. "Sorry we're late, Simon!" Izzy called at him.

Simon looked at V again, this time _really_ looked. That morning he couldn't see past running eye makeup, applied no doubt courtesy of Izzy, and red Marks. Any trace of makeup was gone, showing large pewter-colored eyes, too dark to be silver. Everything about her was thin, from her face to her limbs to her torso, almost seemed to be skin laid atop of bone. Her skin was so white that she may have passed for a vampire, if not for the Marks. If Izzy had not told him she was sixteen, she would have guessed she was older. Her focused eyes seemed haunted, as if they had seen too much, and her thin face, though unlined, still bore telltale signs of experiencing far too much far too young.

Taking an unnecessary breath, he took in her scent: it wasn't like the sunlight smell if Izzy and Alec. It partly smelled more concentrated, like with Jace and Clary, but there was an acidic smell to it, making it seem poison somehow. Both angel and demon blood in a Nephilim's body? How was it not tearing her apart? For once, he decided, he saw someone whose blood appealed to him in no way, shape, or form.

"So," V stated awkwardly, "I'm sorry that I reacted the way I did this morning. You're a vampire, not something to be stared at. It was rude." He was a little surprised. Nephilim _never_ swallowed their pride, especially not to Downworlders. He also noticed her accent. Unlike the Lightwoods, her voice bore no hint of a New York accent. People in Idris had no distinctive accent, he learned, aside from the one their families had taught them. V's was a mix of Irish and British.

"It's alright. I'm used to being examined like I'm in a Petri dish by now," he shrugged it off. He had gotten that reaction a lot; what he _wasn't_ used to was being apologized to for it.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at Izzy. "Petri dish?" she asked quizzically.

Izzy responded with a shrug and changed the subject. "So, Taki's for breakfast?"

XXXXX

V walked into the café after the ifrit—he was obviously an ifrit because he didn't smell like magic—allowed her in. she received some looks, head some hushed whispers, but ignored them. Until, that is, she heard one particular comment. "I hear she's so mutated that she's not even Nephilim anymore. The freak." She clenched her fists. Valentine did a lot to her—tortured her, beat her half to death on many occasions, made her listen to the dying screams of her cellmates—but she was still one of the Nephilim. The man continued, "I think she's a Forsaken or something." Her nails dug so deep into her palm that they were drawing blood.

Izzy put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't freak out, V. you'll learn to deal with them. How do you think they reacted when Alec came out?"

"He called me a Forsaken," she hissed. A faerie waitress who had introduced herself as Kaelie had shown them their seats, but she still heard him. Looking at the human menu at the back, she absently ordered a plate of plain pasta noodles and water. Sinking back in her seat, shrugging, she listened to Izzy talk to Simon, hoping they would forget about her.

_See how they ignore you, Number Five? _Jonathan whispered. _I would make you a _queen_. The mother of a new race of Nephilim. Instead, you sit here, content to waste your time with them._

_I know they wouldn't hurt me, _she said, quickly glancing up at the couple and her now-arrived plate of pasta.

_Mundanes _know_ that monsters don't exist. Your parents _know_ that you're dead. The Clave _knows_ that I'm dead. Strange, isn't it, how so much we know ends up being wrong?_

"So, what do you think, V?"

She was snapped out of her internal conversation with Jonathan by Simon's question as he looked intently at her over a glass of blood. "I'm sorry; I wasn't listening. What were you saying?"

"_Hulk in Harlem_ as our band's name. Eric's been really into Marvel movies lately. It's either that or _Shanked by a Piccolo._"

A Hulk? What was that? Why would it be in Harlem? Simon took her confused look as a 'no'.

She picked at her food, not particularly hungry. "So, um, how long have you been a vampire?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.

He shrugged. "Couple months, I guess. It's still kind of weird, though. So, how did you end up in a cellar for five years?"

She gave her usual story, which was the truth minus a couple of details. "During my first lone demon hunt, two Raum showed up and drug me through a Portal to New York. Valentine wanted the five of us as his little guinea pigs." She spat out Valentine's name as if it were poison, which to her, it was. "I was held there and tortured for five years before Alec and Izzy showed up, and… the rest you know."

"What about your name? Your past? I mean, it's not like you pick up a card and it says: _Kidnapped. Lose five years of your life and all prior memories_."

"I honestly have no idea what that last part was supposed to mean, but aside from that, I don't know my real name, and the only things about my past I can remember is my father."

"He'd better not be another evil overlord," Simon muttered into his glass. Izzy elbowed him for that. "Ouch, Izzy, was that really necessary?"

XXXXX

Jonathan watched Number Five through his psychic link with her. He didn't want her, but there was no way he saw yet that he could have the girl he loved: Clary.

Demons wanted things that they knew they shouldn't want. He shouldn't want Clary; he shouldn't _love_ Clary. Clary was his _sister_. But he always thought of her—her attitude that doubled her height, green eyes that shone, no matter with joy or passion or sadness or anger; they were always alive, , and bright red hair that shone like a beacon in the sunlight. Everything about his sister was beautiful; from her short, freckled frame to her adorable klutziness. In the old days, siblings married each other; why should it be different now?

Instead, he had Number Five. If it weren't for the primal need to reproduce, he would've killed her by now. She was the opposite of Clary. While Clary was fire and life and passion, Number Five was like a dead planet: colorless, dead, and cold. A shyness and fear always followed her. A fear of him, he knew. Her eyes were blank and empty most of the time and had impractically long hair that was a dull black. She was obviously Nephilim from birth: cold, trained movements and a wariness of what she said. He looked at her back, what wasn't covered of it, anyway. Red score lines covered her back, that hadn't healed even after an _iratze_. A deep scar, made by a dagger on her left shoulder, had healed particularly badly. They shared blood, even though it wasn't Valentine's. He thought back to what he had told her: _Lilith's blood runs through your veins. Yes, _he thought, _she has many weaknesses. And when she is mine, I will exploit every one of them. She will be _begging _for me to take her. Begging to make her my queen. Her and Clary both, Jace or no._

**A/N: So, so, sorry for the wait. I hope you forgive me. And in case you were wondering where the whole 'Shanked with a Piccolo' thing came from, it came from band when I shanked our trumpet player in the gut with a piccolo. He said, 'Aw, man, you just freaking shanked me with a piccolo.' I thought it would be the stupidest band name ever, and thus put it as a candidate for Simon's band's name. **


End file.
